Crikey Dick Van Dykey*!

Or, Serendipity
     Last night Conrad was musing in the kitchen, thinking deep dark thoughts.  "What was that BBC ghost story about a painter I saw decades ago?" inspired by nothing in particular.
     Like many a thought, this one passed without being recorded for posterity, until a couple of hours ago.  Conrad was perusing in the kitchen, specifically reading the latest edition of  "Empire", unseen till that very moment, and which publication you ought to be familiar with.  What did I come across on a page-sized advert listing BBC ghost stories?  Quite.  "Schalken The Painter", from 1979.

Mine was Serendipity.  Hers will be Traumadipity.

Perhaps I should have saved that one until Halloween.

More of Bread
     Last night's loaf, once the burnt crust had been scraped off, was perfectly edible.  To prove it wasn't just Conrad-made-it-he'll-damn-well-eat-it bloody-mindedness, Wifey had a couple of slices, toasted.
     Then today I pondered about making a French loaf.  Forget the baguettes in shops, the oven simply isn't big enough for those.  It did fit two foot-long baguettes - that is, two baguettes each a foot long as shown below:

Before Conrad sliced one open and scoffed some, just to test it.

These will now have to age a few days before I can comfortably dip them in a cup of hot Marmite.

Winter Plumage
     Darling daughter is currently cleaning, tidying and hoovering her room.  She discarded a fine furry hat that Conrad can now wear for the winter, with the addition of a layer of tinfoil on the inside, of course.  Can't be too careful.

Conrad, rendered speechless by darling daughter

"Speechless" because the untidiness of that room is legendary.  Our towels formed a liberation movement to free their comrades trapped in there, and textile scientists are asking curious questions about the layers of fossilized clothing found at the bottom of several piles in a corner.  Rumours about Japanese soldiers still hiding in cupboards are untrue, however (they were chased away by the Russian ones).

So - Tanks?
     No!  Battleships, instead.  Not the big steel things stuffed with guns and missiles, but the logic puzzle version thereof.  I had been miserably unsuccessful with two previous attempts, but this morning I nailed a third attempt, then went back and re-did the second.
     "We don't believe you!  Show us the evidence!" I hear you cry.  Well, okay:

The triple Logic tick of triumph

Well, that's all for to - what's that noise?

O Noes!  The cuddly piranhas are back, with jungle reinforcements!

Man the barricades!  Deploy the felt cannon and Velcro shotguns!  BOOJUM! prepares to go down fighting!


* Nothing in this post, or the entire blog for that matter, has anything to do with Mr Van Dyke, it's just that his name rhymes.